


Secrets

by Not_You



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Breast Fucking, Chastity Device, F/M, Needles, Service Top, Subtextual Masochism, This is weird, Trust, bizarre dynamics, consensual temporary infibulation, i'm not sure this works this way, play piercing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this Avengerkink prompt:<br/>http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/8247.html?thread=17220663#t17220663</p><p>Because she's always having sex on missions as part of her job, when she has down time at the tower, sex is the last thing she wants. Clint understands and gives her what she wants instead: he sews her labia closed until she has to go back in the field.</p><p>(Clint seals Natasha up and makes her feel safe.  No stitches, though.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

The most effective rituals are secret. It's one of those cardinal rules of magic that applies to so much else. Clint lines up his tools, waiting for Natasha. He's honored that she trusts him with this, and he double-checks that everything is sterile, that he has enough gloves and gauze. He's unsure how it will go tonight, but he always prepares all of it. How the process goes depends on what Natasha wants and what she can handle. These two things are often very different, and Clint prides himself on parsing it so she gets exactly what she wants in a way that she can bear. He looks up when she comes in, still damp from her shower. She always looks younger like this, hair slicked back, the camouflage and war paint of her makeup long gone, eyes clear and needy. He turns up the heat as she slides her robe off and lies down, limbs spread. The restraints are very comfortable, because Clint does not like to cause her pain unless it's on purpose. Right now he tightens each one, and strokes her hair. She's battered and bruised from her mission, and he's very gentle.

"What do you want?"

She takes a deep breath, quivering. "Stitches."

Clint shakes his head. "No, baby." Natasha whines, and tugs against the restraints. "You've been hurt enough," Clint says softly, and presses a kiss to her mound where the skin is completely bare, everything waxed away. He sits back and smiles down at her irritation and hunger. "I'll pierce you a little bit if you want."

Natasha does want, nodding and whimpering, swallowing hard like her throat is knotted up with need. Clint smiles softly, and begins. He carefully wipes her clean, each delicate fold, and pats her dry. When she's had to be someone's pretty little pet, soft and feminine and sweet, he uses the sutures, and keeps his needles in the freezer. But on missions like this last one, when she hasn't had to sleep with anyone and has been through combat, Clint can't bring himself to hurt her more. The surgical glue comes in handy for times like these. He neatly glues her inner lips together, all the way because this is the easiest method to remove, and uses some mean little clamps to hold everything until it sets. His hands are reverent and gentle, because this pink, tender flesh is one of Natasha's deadliest weapons. He cannot imagine being physically unable to set down his bow, and he can feel Natasha's relief at someone else taking responsibility for it as she writhes and moans in her bonds, panting softly. Clint shivers, and kisses her deeply, running his hands over her in all the right patterns, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples, incredibly gentle. He can't even get the word 'cherish' out of his mouth about anything but his weaponry, but he hopes the sentiment comes through in his touch. 

When Natasha is melted beneath him, just quivering and breathing softly, he brings out the needles and alcohol wipes. He's always very careful to prevent infections, and to let her know exactly when and where she'll feel that sharp, sickening pinch that is sometimes the only thing she wants. Three needles through the skin at the top of each breast, making her whine, nipples rock hard. For anyone else Clint would stop between each one, but Natasha is craving needles. She needs that gleaming sharpness through her silky, pale skin, and just quivers and breathes through six of them without a break. Clint shudders, and pulls off his gloves to stroke her hair and tell her how amazing she is, how beautiful, how strong. She moans, and looks up at him with those big, shy, killer's eyes of hers. She looks as deadly as she is, and as innocent as she is not, and Clint just has to kiss her, loving and slow and deep. She moans into his mouth, and whimpers as he kisses her neck before sitting back up and getting fresh gloves, gently wriggling the base of each needle in turn and making her sob.

"More, baby?" He asks, looking into her eyes again.

"Yes," she gasps, " _please_."

He shivers, and takes his time about sliding three more into perfect, waxed skin of her mound, starting from closer to the top and working his way toward her clit. She moans, melted in the restraints, and comes when he removes all the clamps, blood rushing back into the skin, fused now. Clint runs his fingertip down the seam and Natasha whines. A little slickness has escaped, and Clint wipes her carefully, patting it completely dry. He presses a soft kiss to her clit, and then pulls her outer lips over it, gluing and clamping them in place. He's always surprised when his hands don't shake as he seals Natasha away. Making her feel safe is such a heavy responsibility, but a sweet one too. He doesn't meet her eyes until the job is done, too intent on making sure it's a perfect seal. One sleek, inevitable line down to her perineum, like the cleft of a peach. Last clamp in place, he looks up into her dark, needy eyes and smiles softly. "You're doing so good, Tasha." He slides the needles out of her mound, kissing each puncture and then disinfecting them. They're pretty, six little red dots over the clamps. The designs on each breast match, and Natasha moans as he repeats the same treatment with the added trick of swiping the ice-cold wipes over her nipples when she's not expecting it, making her jump and whine. Clint purrs, kissing her deeply.

"Do you want to help me come, Tasha?" She doesn’t always, and sometimes he knows it would upset her even to be asked. But today she nods, hungry and breathless. Clint grins at her eagerness and kisses her again, taking a moment to clean up his paraphernalia. It's a set routine and one that Natasha enjoys watching. A smile plays around the corners of her mouth, and she looks so wonderfully relaxed. He smiles back, and then removes the clamps, making Natasha moan and writhe. "So pretty," Clint murmurs, peeling off his gloves and trailing his callused fingertip down the seam, "all wrapped up tight."

"Come here and let me help you," Natasha purrs, and Clint grins, wriggling out of his jeans and slinging his shirt and boxers aside.

"Got a preferred method?" He asks, straddling her waist.

"Yes. Come here." Clint moves higher, until his cock is resting between her breasts. He shudders, and Natasha smirks up at him. "Think you can handle it from here?"

"Yes, ma'am," he breathes, low and full of feeling, and she chuckles and then moans softly as those hard, gentle hands squeeze and knead her breasts lovingly before pressing them both inward, groaning as he ruts into that soft channel, slicked with precome. He grunts and whimpers and comes in almost no time at all, spilling all over the delicate hollow of Natasha's throat. Panting, he stretches out beside her for a long moment, kissing and nuzzling her and licking her clean. That done, he sits up and unties her, gently rubbing her delicate wrists and ankles, circling them in kisses. They're not even reddened, the cuffs perfectly fitted, but he likes to do this, and she's willing to indulge him. Now she stretches and rolls onto her side, reaching for him. He dims the lights and joins her. Time enough to wash and put themselves back together later.


End file.
